Spat
by DSLeo
Summary: Luke shows up at Lorelai's door at an unholy hour, and it's Taylor's fault. Canon, figure it's set in some early season.


Spat

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Luke shows up at Lorelai's door at an unholy hour, and it's Taylor's fault. Canon, figure it's set in some early season.

AN: They're really doing this in my neighborhood right now. As I type. OMG.

GG GG GG

The noise screamed through Luke's ears and into his brain. It was hydraulic, and engine-like, and _wet._ It was a bit like he'd gone into an old-fashioned automated car wash, only he never did that, since it was cheaper to wash his truck himself.

He gurgled out of sleep, fueled by the need to kill The Evil Noise, and turned on his light.

What he saw was too much to comprehend at such an early hour. Nonetheless, he pounded his thinking muscles into gear, and figured out that what he saw was a team of power washers, with generators and hydraulic pumps on their trucks, along with huge vats of blue-tinted water. They were meticulously power-scrubbing every last bit of sidewalk pavement.

A smell, rather like laundry detergent, assaulted Luke's nose when he tore outside to rage at these lunatics.

They wore protection over their ears, and did not hear him. When he jumped in front of one young man, his boots were power-washed.

Luke decided he needed answers.

He marched, soggy-footed, to Lorelai Gilmore's house.

GG GG GG

When the door opened, it occurred to Luke that Rory was probably asleep. In fact, Lorelai was asleep, although she was vertical and ambulatory. "Whazza?" she asked blearily. "Zerly, wha…"

"Why the hell is there a team of power washers using toxic chemicals and wasting water to make the sidewalks look clean?"

Lorelai put up a hand, shoved him backwards a pace, the distant whine-growl audible but bearable. "People were sleeping here. What do you think they're doing?"

Luke threw out his hands to his sides. "How would I know? I'm asking you, not telling you! Who hired these idiots to power-wash _sidewalks_? And that stuff they use is going to kill all the fish in the river, and why are they wasting so much water, why not just use a good fine-grained sand and some push brooms?!"

Lorelai's eyebrows lifted, and sank. She folded her arms. "Did you notice anyone else awake?"

"What?"

Lorelai pointed toward downtown Stars Hollow, such as it was. "Did. You. Notice…"

He swatted half-hearted at her hand, disliking its accusing wiggle. "No, but…"

"And why would that be?"

"How the hell would I know? Dammit, Lorelai, he soaked my feet and woke me up and I gotta get some rest, so tell me what's going on and let me have a blanket, would you?" he ranted, his forehead tight. "I'll sleep on the porch, I don't care, just tell me what stupid…"

"Taylor."

Luke dropped from ranting into seething rage. "Taylor," he hissed. "I should've known."

"Yes, Taylor, and yes, you should've known, because we have these things called town meetings that you say aren't worth your time, and these flyers that you never read," Lorelai exploded, hands on hips, "and if you ever came out of your shell, Hermit Crabby Man, you'd have known that Taylor got the town fathers and whoever to agree to power-clean the fronts of all the buildings downtown, and the sidewalks, for the new pictures of Stars Hollow in the Connecticut guide for tourist destinations!"

She did that in one breath. Luke, who'd long been amazed at her ability to speak without seeming to inhale, goggled. And not, he promised himself, at her heaving chest under blue pajamas scattered with smiling yellow faces.

"It's come up at three town meetings, we've all gotten the flyers, and everyone knows the schedule for when their block is going to be cleaned, and it's overnight," continued Lorelai, jabbing at his chest with that accusatory finger, "so that we don't have people getting their feet soaked!"

"Uh," was Luke's response, and all in all, not a bad one, given the circumstances.

"You always say the town meetings upset you, you'll just yell at Taylor, blah blah blah, well, if you went, you'd have been able to vote against it in town meeting, and heard about it in town meeting, and known that this is your turn to have the power washers all night, and everyone _else_ who lives in the affected area knows to have earplugs and earmuffs, and Rory's already wearing hers to bed for practice because Taylor thinks Babette's gnomes look quaint and they'll be in the next town brochure so we're scheduled next!"

Luke gulped. "Um… Maybe I should let you get back to bed?"

Lorelai hissed, "I know I've bugged you over the years, Luke, I own it, but don't you come yelling at me for something you could've known about if you ever left your cave, or, y'know, _listened to what I say every morning I order coffee_!"

Luke cringed and nearly tumbled down the porch steps. He caught himself on an upright. "Uh, you told me this?"

"Oh, gee, only three-four-five-ten times this last _week_ , and you said…" She mimicked his scowl, his holding an order pad, with uncanny and unflattering accuracy. "Not now, Lorelai, I'm busy, do you want food or not?"

"I, uh… Well, I mean, half of what you say is pointless, it's like flies buzzing or something," Luke said in self-defense.

Lorelai's blue eyes narrowed.

"I like buzzing flies," said Luke weakly, and falsely. "Look, I've got to be up early, can I just have a blanket and a towel? To dry my feet? Please?"

"Of course," said Lorelai far too softly. "You know you owe me for waking me up. I worked till eleven."

"Yeah, free liquid death for a week," groused Luke around a pang of guilt, sitting down on the porch steps to face a few hours of uneasy sleep. At least it was warm, he consoled himself.

"You can sleep in the jeep," she offered coolly. "We wouldn't want Babette to see you on the porch and get ideas. But I hope you know this is all your own fault. You're the one who got Taylor started about clean sidewalks."

Safely in the jeep, seat fully reclined, feet dry and boots hanging over Lorelai's porch railing, Luke shut his eyes to get some sleep. Her words dinged in his ears. How, exactly, had he inspired to power-wash the sidewalks?

He'd dozed into that beautiful zone a few moments shy of true slumber when memory rose up and slapped him.

" _You know what I think of your color scheme for the diner? This!" And he'd spat on the sidewalk at Taylor's feet. Extreme provocation had been involved, but Taylor had gone away, which was all Luke had wanted at the moment and then Lorelai had been babbling and yakking about the town meetings and earplugs and…_

"Crap," sighed Luke, and mentally noted that he owed Lorelai an actual apology along with free coffee for a week. Sometimes, consequences were a real pain in the neck.

GG GG GG

AN: Power-washing our sidewalks. Why? Because someone thought they looked unappealing. Yes, well, they're sidewalks. How appealing should they look? Welcome to the madness of the American institution known as "the homeowners' association". It's like you have your own Taylor. Such joy.

Note: Spat is the past tense of "spit", and also means a small, heated argument or disagreement. Ergo, title.


End file.
